Nico's Dreams
by BornAsTheSeventhMonthDies
Summary: Nico has nightmares too. But there's no one to comfort him, unlike Percabeth. Right...?


**Hey everybody! Here's a little something for all you Nico-lovers out there.**

* * *

Nico stood on the deck of the Argo II, watching as the land and sea sped away beneath him. He was in the sky, a place of refuge for many.

But not for him.

The nightmares of Tartarus came to him, every night. No matter what. Where he was. What time it was. When he drifted off to sleep, the nightmares of Tartarus came back, stronger than ever.

Percy and Annabeth were going through that right now. When they came out, they would have the nightmares. But they would have each other.

If they came out.

If they came out.

One tear fell from his eye, falling through the sky, unnoticed in the grand tapestry the Fates wove. What was a teardrop from the son of Hades worth?

But it was a reminder to himself that however hard he tried to have this shell around him, however hard he tried to be a creature of the shadows…

He was human.

And he lived.

And life was pain.

Percy and Annabeth were finding that to be true. Tartarus equaled suffering. Knowing that, he even felt pity for the monsters as he turned them to dust.

He could cry, too. Because humans cried. People shed tears when they felt great pain.

He felt pain. Great pain. For Percy; for Annabeth; for Bianca; for his mother; for Luke, Ethan, Mary, Charles, Lee, Zoe, Silena. For himself.

But no one ever knew this. He was the son of Hades; that was enough. You felt no pity for such a one. So no one knew that in the night, when his fatigue was too great, he would shadowtravel himself into the Underworld and scream out his nightmares there. So he never disturbed anyone.

He was exhausted. Too tired to do anything but sleep. But he couldn't sleep, because when he did Tartarus came to him.

In a shower of pain and darkness and fire he was back in the pit, and the sparks flew and the howling continued and the maniacal laughing of the dead reverberated in his skull and the skulls stared and the air burned and there was no escape and he was in unimaginable terror and agony for eternity.

And so he stared out across the sky at the horizon far in the distance. The Argo II sailed through the sky, the crew slept; well, six of them did.

And Nico stood on the deck of the Argo II, watching as the land and sea sped away beneath him.

* * *

Nico looked down at the sea beneath him. He was on the deck of the Argo II. The last night before they would be in Greece.

Percy and Annabeth had nightmares every night like he had knew they would. So every night, Percy went into Annabeth's room. They slept together and kept each other's nightmares away.

He still had the nightmares, of course. Nothing would ever take them away except the Lethe. But he had no one.

He tried to pretend he didn't care.

It was hard.

A scream from the lower deck. Then silence. Annabeth had had a nightmare; Percy had waked her. Simple. But there was no one for Nico.

The dreams of Tartarus were only getting stronger. He had dreamt of them last night in his room in his room in Hades' palace. He had waken himself with his screaming and thrashing.

Tonight he didn't want that. He didn't need sleep; he was a creature of the night. So he stayed awake for hours after dark, staring out at the sea.

Tonight the moon shone brightly. Artemis didn't drive the moon, as Apollo did, but her mood affected the shining. Something was making her happy.

Nico tried to find hope or peace in the bright light of the moon. The cold air kept him awake as he watched the moon, not obscured by clouds on this clear night. The Argo II sailed on, making for Greece.

A bat flew next to the ship, squeaking in surprise as it swerved around the unexpected obstacle. Nico's Stygian Iron sword shot out at the sound. When he saw it was a harmless animal, he sheathed it again.

And stared down at the sea beneath him.

* * *

In the infirmary, Nico had been placed on strict abstention from all dark powers. Including shadow-traveling. But his nightmares would wake the other patients, he knew. So he went to the door and looked out.

The sky was clear again. The moon shone bright, casting a strange light over the surrounding cabins. The ground was almost white.

He stepped out. The cold didn't bother him, but he recognized that it was too cold to stay out for long. So he made straight for the Hades cabin.

Hazel was not inside. This didn't bother him, of course, since she was currently on her way to Camp Jupiter, with the legion and Frank. So he closed the door behind him and went to his bed.

The cabin was soundproof, something he had made sure of when he built it, originally intending to play his music as loud as he wanted. But now it would serve a different purpose: to muffle the sounds of his screaming.

He laid in his bed, not bothering to go under the sheets. Again, he noticed the ridiculous bed shape, and decided he would have them replaced at the soonest possible time.

He slept.

Nightmares came to him. The horrors of the pit. He was falling, falling, falling, down through Arachne's hole, falling for a thousand years and five million miles, on into Chaos and infinity. The sound of his own cries echoed off the walls of the pit and came back at him, mocking his pain. He screamed his throat raw.

Then he was at the banks of the Phlegethon. Slipping in the glass-like rubble and sand, slicing his hands and back. The fiery river was growing, burning, steaming, bubbling, boiling, turning his body to dust and his mind to pain. The fire burned through his veins, heating him white-hot; he was too hot for his brain to handle; he burst into flames…

And he couldn't make a sound. He was with Akhlys. Inhaling her toxic fumes. Her poison surrounded him, making a sea of death. It burned him, twisted him, penetrated him until his body was full of the deadly liquids. The pain was dull and sharp, freezing cold and sizzling hot, his brain heard nothing but death and hopelessness.

He was on the edge of Chaos. He was being pulled in. The madness of disorder cloudedhis brain; he saw things that no mortal, demigod, or god had ever seen or should see. He knew that was only the beginning; Chaos was chaos and there was no escaping it, he was falling again, falling, falling, through freezing hot and fiery cold, blinding darkness and invisible light, and there was nothing left.

And then it was gone. He was safe. There was a warm light pressed into his mind, the terrors left, and he saw through a glass darkly into Elysium.

The softness and warmth kept him safe through the night. He knew something had saved him, but he didn't know what, and the peace stayed with him to the morning. Until he awoke and saw a blond head nestled into his chest. They were both covered by the blankets. Will had his arms around Nico.

Will, sleeping, smiled. Nico stared at him for a few moments, then relaxed with a sigh. Will had kept him safe.

Nico di Angelo finally had someone.

* * *

 **So, how'd I do? Make you smile, shed a tear, anythin'? Tell me! Review, _please_. This means a lot to me. Just a simple fifty-four word review is enough. XD**

 **\- Jake S. (A.K.A. TheLittleDeformedOne)**


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